Florist. Again. Studio Guilt. Again. Except this time I'm wearing hoop earrings. Going insane. Insane. In the sane. I seem to recall in a moderately drunken state on the weekend I picked up on that fact that when I am in these moderately drunken states I tend to begin sentences with "I feel like". And I say it really slowly or something. I feel like, the word insane is weird because you would think it would be 'outsane' because you are kind of outside of sane. Or perhaps you are so crazy that you are incredibly sane hence being in sane.
I feel like, my art pace has slowed down and that Bob Dylan is contributing to this. I feel like, art is hard and life is at times hard and I feel like everything feels strangely normal for not being normal at all. I feel like that is the corniest thing I have ever written. However I feel like I'm lucky to be able to feel like all these things and lately I've been feeling like optimism is fundamentally flawed but we need it in order to survive. As it sit here in less than desirable circumstances, selling useless soaps and flowers that are going to die in a week I feel like what else can we do but hope and believe life is worth living even though we don't know why or how and that everything that happens and every choice we make has some kind of divine purpose even if you might feel like it doesn't at all and even if it doesn't at all. This is what I feel like.